


From Which There Is No Return

by hudson



Category: Prison Break
Genre: First Time, Incest, M/M, Morning After, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hudson/pseuds/hudson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I had sex last night. I had sex with my...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	From Which There Is No Return

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LiveJournal 3-2-2006.

**Title:** From Which There Is No Return  
 **Fandom:** Prison Break  
 **Characters:** Michael/Lincoln (slashy)  
 **Prompt:** 077: What?  
 **Word Count:** 3,735  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Summary:** _I had sex last night. I had sex with my..._  
 **Disclaimer:** Paul Scheuring and a whole lot of other people who aren’t me own Prison Break.  
 **AN:** halfshellvenus challenged me to work for my slash, so I gave it a shot - let me know if this makes any kind of sense or not. It ended up much longer and much less angsty than I had anticipated, but it was hard getting them to talk about some of the obvious subjects.

-

 _Everything is dark and bleary, scorching and intense._

 _There are tongues and teeth and hands, thighs and shoulders and cocks._

 _Groans become moans, which morph into_ oh yeah _s and_ please, **please** _s and_ god _s and_ more _s, and then become groans once again._

 _There’s pain, sharp and agonizing and blissful and real. And there’s perfect, blinding, burning pleasure._

 _Hands stroke and slide across rough skin, brushing over scars and blemishes and scrapes and bruises and healed wounds that still hurt._

 _Heads bump against each other and there’s laughter, but only for a moment before eyes become intense once more and mouths are put to different use._

 _There’s a cry and a groan, simultaneous, and shuddering limbs that collapse in a heap. There’s a comforting weight, a breathy sigh, and then serene darkness._

-

Michael was jarred awake by a sudden jolt of the mattress and panicked “fuck!” and he was looking up at Lincoln sitting crouched on his heels across the room before he could figure out what was happening. Michael rolled onto his back to get a better look as a yawn broke free from his mouth. His eyes closed briefly, head falling back against the pillow, and he almost fell back asleep when a muttered string of obscenities made its way through the sleepy fog surrounding him.

Michael struggled to wrench his eyelids open, sure that there was something wrong with Lincoln but still too close to being asleep to figure out what.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Lincoln bit out, and Michael got a flash of an image in his mind, fuzzy and incomplete – _Lincoln’s moaning the word,_ fuuuuuuuccckk... _stretching it into three words, with his head bent so far backwards it looks like it’ll snap in half_ – and Michael couldn’t figure out why he had such a memory, he’d never seen –

Realization hit him suddenly, an angry punch to the stomach, and his eyes snapped open. He was awake now.

“Oh god,” Michael muttered as the previous night flowed back into his head in bits and pieces – a gasp here, a stroke there, a wet tongue against skin, on and on until Michael couldn’t move, body frozen with the recognition of what they’d done.

Lincoln looked up at him and their eyes locked across the room for an instant before Lincoln dropped his head into his hands and Michael had to tear his eyes away, unable to look at his brother anymore. He drew his knees up to his chest to rest his elbows on them, mirroring Lincoln’s position, and the room was deathly silent for a few long moments.

Lincoln sprang up suddenly from his crouched position, dashing across the room and through the bathroom door. Michael didn’t look up as he passed, but listened to the door bang shut and he wasn’t sure, but he thought he could hear the harsh sound of retching coming from behind the closed door. The noise made him shake.

 _I had sex last night,_ Michael thought as his arms moved down to hug his legs.

 _I sex with my..._ just thinking the one word brought on a wave of nausea. He closed his eyes and steeled himself.

 _I had sex with my **brother.**_

 _My **brother.**_

 _Brother._

 _Brother._

 _Brotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrotherbrother._

 _Lincoln._

 _I had sex with..._ another wave of nausea. But he had to do something, and before he could even talk about this he had to be able to say the words.

 _Lincoln. I had sex with Lincoln._

 _LincolnLincolnLincolnLincolnLincolnLincLincLincLincoln._

 _I had sex with **Lincoln.**_

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck fuck fuckaduck._

He was still trying to get himself used to the idea when Lincoln burst back into the room and took one look at him before bringing a hand up to his eyes.

“Christ, Michael, would you put something on?”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, and then glanced down at himself. His mouth snapped shut and he pulled a sheet up to cover himself, feeling utterly beyond stupid.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and slid out of the bed to search for some pants. Lincoln turned away as soon as one naked leg appeared from under the sheet, and Michael felt a stab to his gut.

He picked his way through the room, trying to find the pants he’d worn last night as quickly as possible, and each step brought with it another memory of what had happened.

He almost tripped over one of his shoes and remembered how he’d toed them off with the laces still tied because Lincoln had been pulling so insistently at his pants and he was afraid he’d get trapped in them if he didn’t chuck the shoes immediately.

He brushed aside the bed’s quilt with the hope of finding some clothing underneath, recalling how he’d clenched and bunched it while Lincoln had sucked him off, tearing it away from the mattress and ruining the perfectly smooth creases that only a hotel housekeeper could do. It had been too hot for a quilt on the bed anyway, and the crisp sheets had felt so much cooler once he lay back after stripping the quilt completely off.

He finally found the jeans he’d worn last night and realized after a moment that the dried substance spotting them was from Lincoln rubbing against him as Michael had jerked him off outside the bar in which they’d both drunk themselves into a stupor. He sighed and dropped the pants back to the floor.

He spied Lincoln’s jeans slung over a chair, remembering how it felt to push his hands beneath the waistband and slide them down Lincoln’s legs. On any other day he’d pull on his brother’s clothes if he couldn’t find his own, happy to drown in a shirt or pair of pants far too big for him. But not on the day after he fucked his brother. Or, more precisely, was fucked by his brother.

He finally found his boxers on the windowsill where he remembered Lincoln tossing them with a smug grin after shoving him against the wall. He tried not to think about the implications of how dry his mouth had suddenly gone as he pulled them on and willed his body to still when he was hit with the memory of Lincoln’s tongue against his own.

Michael couldn’t decide if he was disgusted or turned on by the thought of Lincoln inside him, and that moment of indecision made his brain buzz.

He needed to stop thinking and crawl back into bed and hide.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly to Lincoln’s tense, naked back. “You can turn around now.”

Lincoln turned slowly but didn’t look up at him, and Michael almost laughed at the picture he knew the two of them must have made in their matching white boxers. The look of fright on Lincoln’s face wiped away any humor in the situation.

Lincoln stood very still for a moment, then brushed past Michael and started rooting around for clothes.

“We need – ” Michael began heavily, but Lincoln cut him off without looking up at him.

“Don't you dare fuckin' say we need to talk.”

“What would you rather do?” Michael could see the tight set of Lincoln’s shoulders, but he pushed on. “Just pretend it didn't happen?”

Lincoln gave a small burst of bitter laughter and shook his head, balling a t-shirt in his fist.

“Honestly? I don't want to pretend it didn't happen. And that freaks me out even more.”

Michael opened and closed his mouth a few times and his eyes grew wide as he took in the admission, not even sure why Lincoln would be so honest with him.

“I…um, I – ”

“Forget it,” Lincoln said, standing to pull on his pants. Once the t-shirt was pulled over his head he grabbed his shoes from the floor and tried to scurry from the room without looking at Michael.

“Wait,” Michael said, blocking the doorway. “Just wait a minute, you can’t just walk out of here like this.” He put a hand up to Lincoln’s chest, trying to push him back, and Lincoln shoved the hand away.

“Don’t, don’t do that right now.”

He tried to push past Michael again, but Michael braced both hands against his chest, ignoring what he said and pushing as hard as he could. His panic was masked with fury, and he lashed out with his fist, terrified that if Lincoln left this room right now he’d never come back. Michael’s fist connected perfectly with Lincoln’s jaw, and Lincoln stumbled back with a look of shock, eyes finally meeting Michael’s.

The last time Michael had hit Lincoln he’d been fifteen and scrawny, not quite his full height yet, and had barely even made his brother blink, let alone hurt. But Lincoln was looking at him now, one hand on his face, like Michael had broken him.

“You hit me!” Lincoln shouted and Michael desperately wanted to make a joke about him being Captain Obvious.

“Lincoln…”

“You hit me, you shit!”

“You’ve hit me before.”

“Not recently!”

“So? And anyway, you’re being an ass!”

“Well tell me, how am I supposed to act? You ever read some textbook on how to deal with this? Made up a plan or something?”

“You can’t just leave,” Michael told him, trying not to feel hurt by the last bit of his rant and chalking it up to irrationality based on anger. “We need – I need you to stay. We have to – ”

“Why, why do we have to talk about this?” Lincoln asked in a quiet, pained voice. “It happened, we did it, we can’t do it again, we wont – ”

“Stop. Do you hear yourself? It’s not going to help anything if you just act like there’s nothing wrong here.”

“Talk talk talk, you always want to talk about things,” Lincoln sighed. “What is there to say? Do you know what to say?”

“Well… for one thing, I kind of… I wouldn’t mind if you clarified what you said before…”

“Michael…”

“Because did you, uh…?”

“I think we both did – like it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Lincoln finished for him and shivered briefly after he spoke.

“Yeah.”

Lincoln shook his head and took a step towards Michael, trying again for the door, and again Michael blocked it.

“Please, please stay here,” Michael asked him, not at all finished with this. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to come out of this conversation, but certainly not Lincoln’s absence.

“Look, I don’t know what to do here,” Lincoln said, sounding impatient. “What we did, it’s – however it might’ve felt, we were drunk, way too fucking drunk and it’s been a while for me and I’m sure it’s been a while for you too – ”

“Hey!”

“ – and it was probably, you know, scratching an itch. If I could remember more of last night maybe I could figure out why I didn’t find some chick instead, why we…”

“We had sex,” Michael stated, making Lincoln flinch. “Just say it, it actually makes it easier.”

“We had sex,” Lincoln repeated.

“Say it a few times, it helps.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it desensitizes you or something.”

“We had sex,” Lincoln said again. “We had sex, I had sex with you. I had sex with – with my brother. I had sex with my _brother._ My _brother._ Brother. Brother. Brotherbrotherbrother.”

“See?” Michael tried to sound bright, hoping to dissuade Lincoln from something, but unsure of exactly what. It made no sense, no sense at all, but he wasn’t completely sure that he hated what had happened.

Lincoln looked skeptical. “I don’t know, man. This probably isn’t something you’re supposed to get used to.”

Michael bit the corner of his lip, warring over what to say for a minute before he took a chance. Things were so messy at the moment anyway he figured what was another random admission added to the mix.

“It doesn’t have to be like that. You said before – ”

“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter what I said.” Lincoln tried to pry Michael from the doorframe again, a caged animal desperate for escape as he stomped and paced and clawed at Michael in front of the door. “What the hell is your problem?”

“If you leave here now I know what’ll happen. You’ll go straight down to the bar, you’ll get drunk, you’ll try to forget, try to tell yourself that it was all wrong and you didn’t like it and it’ll never happen again, and you’ll do something stupid.”

“What does that mean?” Lincoln stated, not a question because he seemed to know exactly what that meant. “You think what, I’m going to go off and beat up some barfly? Steal a car? Kill someone?”

“That’s not what I said, that’s not what I mean at all.”

“Don’t lie to me, Michael,” Lincoln’s voice grew low and growling, and he raised a finger to poke at Michael’s chest. “You think if you don’t keep an eye on me or something I’m just going to go back to all that, right? God, you’re such a god damn idiot sometimes.”

“I didn’t say any of that, you’re putting words in my mouth.” The conversation was starting to spin wildly out of control and Michael’s stomach was sinking even further with the direction it was taking.

“What do you think’s going to happen if I walk out that door? What are you so afraid of? That I’ll go kill the Vice President’s sister or something?”

They both stood in silence for a few minutes before Michael said carefully, “Well I don’t think she has a sister, actually.”

Lincoln seemed to be struggling against it, but a smile finally broke its way onto his face and he shook his head.

“I’m serious,” Lincoln said quietly, despite the smile that suggested otherwise. “I don’t know what you want from me now.”

“What?”

Lincoln took a step back into the room and Michael got the feeling that it was okay to move away from the door now.

“You completely fucked up your life for me,” Lincoln said, the first time either of them had acknowledged what Michael had done, and what he’d done _for Lincoln._ Michael wished they could’ve let it go, not bring it up at all. “There’s nothing I could ever do, I don’t know how to repay you for it. I mean is that what this is about? Is that what you want from me?”

“No!” Michael nearly shouted, shocked at the question and instantly hurt. “You were the one who started it anyway!”

Lincoln looked wounded at that. “I was?”

“I don’t really remember, actually,” Michael admitted. “You’re just pissing me off right now.”

Lincoln shook his head like he wasn’t quite sure. “‘Cause if I did, I mean if I made you do something – it’s really fuzzy a lot of it, I don’t – I’m sorry, Michael, I – ”

“You didn’t,” Michael said forcefully. “I’m pretty sure we both wanted it.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m the older one, I should’ve stopped it.”

“Hey, I’m not a child,” Michael replied. He started to get impatient with the conversation and he hated being coddled by his brother. “We’re both adults here, and drunk or not, we both obviously wanted it to happen. Lots of brothers go out and get bombed without fucking each other.”

Lincoln closed his eyes again at the words. “This is fucking insane. Normal people don’t do this.”

“Yeah, well, things aren’t ever going to be normal for us again,” Michael said, feeling suddenly drained.

“And that makes it okay?” Lincoln shouted back, eyes snapping open.

“I don’t know.”

Neither one spoke for a while until Michael’s stomach growled and he realized how late in the afternoon it was; they’d slept through a good bit of the day and argued through another large chunk. He rubbed his stomach briefly before it quieted down, then moved to sit stiffly on the bed, noticing the pain laced through his muscles for the first time.

“Did I hurt you?” Lincoln asked quietly, coming to sit down next to him.

“I don’t really remember,” Michael replied, glad to have his brother next to him and not threatening flight. “I think maybe a little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s really okay.”

“So it was, uh… good, then?” Lincoln asked carefully, looking down at his hands.

“From the bits I can remember,” Michael chuckled gravely. “You?”

“I have no complaints. Except for, you know, who my partner was.”

Michael slumped forward, not sure why that cut him so intensely.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” he said again. “It could be just… another part of our relationship, of who we are – who we are together. And it’s not like there’s going to be many people around to judge us.”

“Michael…”

“Why are you completely dismissing this?”

“Shit, do you hear _your_ self?” Lincoln asked incredulously.

“I know,” he said in a pleading tone, hating how desperate he was starting to sound for something he wasn’t even completely sure he did want. “I know this is just nuts, obscene, ridiculous, whatever else you want to call it, but if we both didn’t completely hate it…”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Who cares?”

“Listen to you,” Lincoln laughed with a sneer. “Mr. Always Play By The Rules, wants to chuck ‘um all out to get a little action. Only spent a month in prison, but it sure seems to’ve changed you.”

“Stop it,” Michael spat back at him, unsure how things had gone from calm to tense so quickly.

“Is that where this is coming from? Got some in there and now you’re jonesing and I’m the only one around with a dick?”

“You’re being an ass-hole,” Michael informed him as he stood from the bed and crossed the small room to lean against the wall. “Why’re you acting like this all of a sudden?”

Lincoln seemed to bite back a snide retort and shook his head. Again he wouldn’t look at Michael. “Why’re you pushing this so hard?”

“I don’t know,” Michael replied honestly. “I don’t even know if I want to do it again, but I don’t see why you’re just dismissing the whole thing.”

“Because fuck, Michael!” Lincoln stormed, arms flailing as he spoke. “I can’t – you’re not supposed to like fucking your brother. And I’m still not even sure I’m completely there yet, but even that just makes me a little sick to my stomach – that it should disgust me more than it actually does.”

“So what, you’re afraid of this?” Michael tried not to sound condescending, but was sure he’d failed. “Afraid, after everything that’s happened, that you might like what’s between you and me?”

“Screw you,” Lincoln pushed out through clenched teeth, apparently picking up on Michael’s tone of accusation and derision.

There was a long pause as Michael tried to let the obvious joke pass, but ultimately he couldn’t resist.

“Yeah, I think you did that already. Twice.”

Lincoln looked for a moment like he wanted to throw up and then leaped from the bed to grab Michael by the back of the neck and pull him from the wall. Michael almost fought back seriously before he saw the grin tugging at Lincoln’s mouth, so he settled on an elbow to the chest instead of a knee to the groin. Lincoln wrapped his arm around Michael’s neck to get him in a headlock and Michael was momentarily helpless to do anything but flail about and scratch at Lincoln’s legs.

Finally he grabbed a hold of one of Lincoln’s knees and yanked, pulling the leg out from under his brother and sending them both crashing to the floor. Once freed Michael tried to push Lincoln down onto his back, but Lincoln had always been the bigger one, had always come out on top when they wrestled, and now was no different.

Michael put up a good fight for a minute or two, kicking and scraping and laughing as Lincoln pushed and elbowed and laughed with him, before Lincoln finally turned Michael on his back and slammed him against the floor. He trapped one of Michael’s arms behind his back and pushed the other against his chest as he settled on top of his brother’s smaller frame looking happily victorious.

They grinned and panted and looked at each other stupidly and Michael was sure in that moment that they could just go back to the way things were before and it would be easy to forget. And then Lincoln leaned down and brushed his lips against Michael’s.

It was over too quickly for Michael to even register what had happened, but he was starting to feel Lincoln’s heat seeping into his skin now. He could feel Lincoln everywhere they were pressed together, including the growing hardness against his hip, and both of their smiles started to fade.

“I, uh…” Lincoln started and stopped.

“Yeah.”

Lincoln released Michael’s arm and sat up, and Michael squirmed to free the other one trapped behind his back. Once both were free and he could feel the circulation returning, he grabbed the back of Lincoln’s neck and pulled himself up to press their lips together again, just as brief as a moment before, but Michael felt now like something had been decided.

“Just don’t ever call me… baby or something like that,” Michael said, pulling against Lincoln’s arms to bring his brother back down to the floor.

“Way too weird,” Lincoln agreed as he settled on top of Michael, his weight warm and comforting. Lincoln’s whole body felt tense, all the muscles pulled tight, but Michael could feel them slowly begin to loosen as they lay together. “Not that this isn’t already weird, but…”

They stayed down there for a long time, Lincoln’s head resting against Michael’s neck and Michael’s arms across Lincoln’s back. One of his feet moved to wrap around Lincoln’s leg; all he wanted at that moment was to wrap them so tightly around one another, ignoring the ache in his back from the hard floor and the one in the pit of his stomach from the voice in his head saying that this was a horrible, disgusting mistake.

“You asked earlier what you could do,” Michael said quietly after a while, noting the unintelligible murmur against his chest that meant Lincoln was listening. “Just don't walk out on me. You can't do that anymore.”

Lincoln squeezed Michael’s shoulder. “I won’t. I won’t again, I promise.”

Regardless of whatever else would happen, that was enough.

 **-end-**


End file.
